HOME
by The.Original.Character
Summary: A trip through England and America's deepest memories shows that no matter what happened in the past, they can always find a home in each other's hearts... FAIL-SUMMARY-FAIL USUK Rated M for ending scene Lemon Songfic to Vanessa Carlton's song "Home"


_**...Home...**_

**Rated M **for Ending Scene

**Songfic** for "_Home_" by Vanessa Carlton

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England remembered how perfect that day had been. The tall grass swayed gently against the wind and the sky was the brightest and clearest blue he'd ever seen. The sun even shined lighter, illuminating those crystalline blue eyes. He still remembered this way back then, when he first saw America. His sweet chubby face looking up to him and smiling, his brand new little brother.

That day England had vowed to protect the little American, he'd be the best big brother ever. Yes, the very best in the world! He'd protect him from that frog-face, France, and anybody that tried to hurt his innocent companion.

_He Promised._

_**Some people live in a house on the hill**_

_**And wish they were some place else**_

_**There's nobody there**_

_**When the evening is still**_

_**Secrets with no one to tell**_

The cottage was alive, not physically of course, but it was spiritually. The little pitter-patter of American feet graced the floor as he ran this way and that way exploring every room and cupboard. England had sat, as he usually did, sipping tea and reading his book as America busied himself playing. The home wasn't very large but neither was America, back then at least.

"Arfur! Arfur! Look what I found!" the small boy hopped excitedly in front of his guardian, "Now-now, Alfred, we've been through this. My name is Arthur okay?" he corrected and the boy nodded "Good, now what was it you discovered? Hmm?", America grinned happily presenting an old stuffed rabbit. England chuckled slightly at the discovery of his favorite childhood toy "Well it seems you've found my old bunny. That little fellow helped me through a lot of stormy nights.", America looked fondly upon the toy, as if it was a hero "Ooh, Arthur can I play with it? Please, please, please?". The Brit nodded and told him to take good care of the old thing. Soon the American had run off again, his frilly white garment bouncing behind as he did.

_That was one of England's favorite memories, when laughter and happiness filled his hill-side home. Nowadays, there's no one there, England himself only visits on rare occasion. Even when he's there, he wishes he wasn't. The memories flood of the evenings spent in joy, and the shadows play on as reminders of the past._

_**Some I have known have a ship where they sleep with sounds of rocks on the coast**_

_**They sail over oceans five fathoms deep**_

_**But can't find what they want the most**_

Days were long and nights spent on guard, never a break for the captain. He reached up and rubbed his face from exhaustion, these waters were endless and he knew this wasn't good for little 'Alfie'. When England had become a pirate, America had come along as well. What was he to do? Leave the kid alone? No, he couldn't do that, he kept his promises even when they mashed with obligation to his country.

America was looking on happily. He really didn't like the rush of sea-life but it made him feel strong, just like his big brother. England was invincible to him, through everything, he held his own against the world. Arthur and Alfred, against the world... He liked the sound of that, but somehow, something was... off.

Suddenly a cannon shot was heard through the splash of the coastal tides. Soon after, the crew was armed and defending the deck as enemy soldiers came aboard to pilfer there cargo. Swords were crossed and men screamed in pain, those painful wails distilled the air, America knew he'd get in the way so as much as he wanted to help, he hid behind the ale barrels off to the side to not cause trouble. They'd win, he knew they would, the queen's pirate divisional navy never lost!

Blood splattered the deck, some from the crew some from the enemy. America had clutched his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, he hadn't been able to take their shrieks. All was silent on board in an instant and now he arose from his hiding place and looked around. The enemy ship was gone and they had taken their dead with them, the crew had succeeded but most still lie among the crimson-splattered mounds they once called mates. About half were dead.

America didn't see a red and gold velvet coat anywhere in the layout of bodies. He ventured off to the only place his captain could be, the treasure cabin. Once on the lower deck he threw open the door and gasped at the sight. England was strewn out in a bloody mess on the giant pile of gold that hadn't fit in any of their chests. His head rested on a leather pouch of coins as he strained to lift it "A- Alfie?",

"Arthur!" America yelled and rush over to the man "Arthur, I- I should've helped! I'm sorry, I could've done something, but all I did was hide! Please be okay Arthur, Please don't leave me, I-" he rambled on between sobs. England grinned and placed his hand on the boy's head to silence him "Alfie, calm down. I'm alright, the bastard knocked me off guard is all." he picked him up and sat him on his lap "I'll be okay. The important thing is are you okay?", America nodded wiping his tears, "Good, now what do you say to going home for a while? I think we've had enough excitement for one expedition, yes?".

"Hehe, yeah!" the American boy raised his arms happily as his captain placed a small crown from the treasure pile on his head.

_At that moment, everything was okay, the waters of the world soothed and the fathoms of the sea didn't seem so deep. When America saw his guardian like that he decided that from now on, he'd protect him. He'd get bigger and be the best hero ever! Though, that's not what happened, was it?_

_**Even now when I'm alone**_

_**I've always known with you**_

_**I am home**_

Rain poured down on their heads, this was not a scene unfamiliar as of late. More and more fighting between the young nation and himself had brought England to this, pointing a gun to the face of the one he loved. He knew he'd never forgive himself, not ever. But he'd never forgive him either, not for this betrayal.

England had knocked Americas gun to the ground and though the weapon was now drown in the mud, he couldn't bring himself to go further. Those eyes, those crystalline blue orbs, they peered into him without their usual glasses. It takes him back to the past, back when those eyes had looked at him with so much adoration, so much praise.

Hadn't there been good times? Hadn't they been happy? Where had their smiles gone now? He looked up with tears in his eyes, America wasn't his little colony anymore, he'd grown in body and mind as well, enough to want freedom. Sure England had set harsh rules, but they were only for America's protection! Well, perhaps not all of them. The shorter blonde dropped his gun and fell to his knees, he knew it was true. He had caused this himself, if he hadn't been so greedy, so arrogant, maybe his sweet little America... Maybe he would still want to be by his side. England didn't blame America, he wouldn't want to be with himself either if he was the larger nation.

America stared down in pity at the emerald-eyed man at his feet. No, not pity, it was sadness. He felt true and utter sadness, he hadn't wanted it to come to this but his people wouldn't have anything but war eradicate the dispute between the two. He needed to do this, at the very least for himself. He loved England so much, but not like a brother should. And so, America needed to show him that he wasn't his little brother anymore, he was a man, one capable and worthy to love the brit. America just couldn't believe that the man before him, the very man who had taught him to use a gun himself, was surrendering.

His men began to walk back to camp and declare victory but America stayed. "You used to be so strong," he uttered under his breath and England looked up from his silent apologies, America couldn't look at him, this wasn't the great empire he had once known. He didn't know if he would ever be again.

_Though that night England gave up everything he wanted, he never looked back. America had walked away from him, that was all there was._

_America often looks back on that night. And when he's alone, he wonder's what England is doing at that that moment, back where he used to call home._

_**Some live in towns**_

_**Cardboard shack on concrete**_

_**All bluster and bustling life**_

_**They search for the color you can never quite see**_

_**Cause it's all white on white**_

Today was just like yesterday, but America was all alone. Where the skies were once blue they seemed dark and gray, the people on the streets looked the same. Distress painted their faces as they hustled back and forth on the side walk. America searched for a cheery face as he gazed up from the box he slept in last night, but who was he kidding? Who could be happy about what they were going through? He'd messed up big time, so bad people were calling the sudden hard times the "Great Depression". At this point he was sort of glad no one knew he was the representative nation, right now, he was common bum.

It almost brought a tear to a certain English nation's dark green eyes watching the American shiver. The beloved bomber jacked tattered with scrapes and scratches, a dead give away of the current depression struck nation's mood.

England walked carefully to the refrigerator box used as a shack for the saddened nation. He needed to be quiet, careful not to frighten America before he got his proposition out. As he approached, the taller blonde turned his glance in astonishment. "A-Arthur? Wha-What are you doing here?" he choked out, the brit was silent, choosing his words and actions wisely. England held out a hand and gave a small smile "Hello old chap, care to go somewhere warm?", America furrowed his brows and turned his head away "Why sh-should I?" he stuttered obviously freezing "I'm doing j-just f-fine right here.", England shook his head and knelt down next to the blue-eyed nation. "Alfred, please. Let me help. There's a war brewing, some say it could be a second world war! If you rejoin the allies, this could help your people out of this depression.", "I don't know, are you sure? why should I listen to you anyway?" he asked skeptically, England sighed "Trust me. We are... friends, right?".

America looked down, thinking on the question, then looked back to those hopeful emeralds facing him. Somewhere in that sea of green there was a hint of something different. It wasn't pity, or hatred, or even disdain. No, there was something he hadn't seen in those eyes for years, love.

_After the war, America was back on his feet. Though he never did get to express his gratitude to the older blonde that had helped him. He never got to ask him why he had come visit that day or if what he saw in his eyes was really what he thought it was. Sometimes, though, he didn't think it mattered, because he probably already knew..._

_And he was right._

_**Even now when I'm alone**_

_**I've always known with you**_

_**I am home**_

_"Hey America, lets go home."_

_**Even now when I'm alone**_

_**I've always known with you**_

_**I am home**_

It had been years since America and England had visited one and other, they saw each other at world meetings but it wasn't the same. They still fought, petty little fights though, nothing really worth taking to heart.

America was going through the motions of life at the moment but memories plagued him as of late. Perhaps it was time he took a trip down memory lane, there was no harm in visiting an old empty house was there?

"Ha, hasn't changed a bit." England whispered to himself as he approached the vine coated cottage, he had gotten the sudden urge to visit the place. Strange as it seemed, he half expected to hear some child-like laughter float around as he opened the door but there was none. He sighed and walked mindlessly towards the back of the house where his favorite sitting room was.

America drove up the hill slowly, the trees along the path were all still there, he remembered climbing them as a child. When he reached the drive way and parked his car, he stopped, thinking that maybe he should have parked in front in stead of the back. The back lane was so much nicer than the open space of the front, but he dismissed the thought as a stupid thought and walked in through the back door.

He wondered around and reminisced of old times, venturing from his old room to the kitchen and the study, soon he came to the back hallway. the one that led to the sitting room.

As America walked silently inside he spotted the wicker chair in the center of the room, there was someone sitting in it. He could only see their back because of the chair's position but he'd know that messy sand blonde hair anywhere. He heard gentle snoring coming from the form and moved closer.

As he circled the chair to face the blonde before him he glanced down at his sleeping friend. He was sort of adorable, the American thought, with his half-read book lying against his chest and a slight blush on his cheeks. Just like when America was little.

As he watched the shorter blonde's chest rise and fall, America was filled with odd emotions.

The brit's features were soft and gentle, something he'd never expect to see unless he was asleep. England's lips were also soft, at least they looked like it, he was drawn deeper into them every second he spent observing. Suddenly, the American acted on his emotions and leaned in closer to the shorter blonde. Without realizing it himself, he pushed his tongue past England's lips, savoring the secret taste he longed for so much. His mind raced, what was he doing? Here he was practically making out with a defenseless sleeping man, basically taking advantage of him. He would pull back now, he told himself, but shortly he felt the other's tongue slip into his own mouth. Startled, America's tongue stilled as England began massaging it with his own. The brit's eyes were shut but the younger blonde was sure he didn't know who he was snogging. Just that he was.

When America realized what was happening, he pulled away. "I'm sorry," he began "I didn't mean to. I-",

"Don't," England said, opening his eyes to look up at his company. "Don't say you're sorry when you and I know you're not.", "But wait, how did you know it was me when you were sleeping?" the American asked. "I-" England sighed "I was dreaming, okay?", "You were dreaming? Of me?", the older blonde nodded looking away as a light blush reappeared on his face.

With this, America grabbed England's chin and pulled him in closely. Both men closed their eyes as their lips merged once more. Again, the younger slipped his tongue into the other's mouth and now the two danced for dominance.

_When they parted, looking at one another knowingly, their smiles reflected each other. America grasped England's hand and pulled him from his seat towards the stairs. They each knew what the other wanted. It was time to put more memories in this home, some not so painful but not innocent either._

_**For me it's a glance and the smile on your face **_

_**the touch of your hands,**_

_**And an honest embrace**_

_**For where I lay it's you I keep,**_

_**This changing world I fall asleep**_

_**With you all I know is I'm coming home,**_

_**Coming home**_

Up in the old room where England used to stay when he visited, he and America made quick work of their clothes. The American caught his partner in another passionate kiss, sliding his large hands down to grab his firm arse. He lifted him onto the bed, the smaller wrapping his legs around him as America moved them to the bed.

When they hit the soft blankets, they shifted and before he knew it, England was straddling America kissing him furiously. Their positions switched and clothing flew here and there as the two busied themselves with nipping, kissing, and tracing every part of each other's body. America's heart stopped at the sight of England, naked and sprawled across the bed, his growing erection in full view. As he removed his own boxers he hoped the other wouldn't shy away.

The brit's blush deepened as he caught sight of the way bigger member of the American. It was painfully obvious the younger would be topping from the start but England shuttered nervously. THAT was supposed to fit inside HIM? There was no way! "He-he, you really have grow, haven't you?" he commented shakily.

America leant close the other's ear and whispered soothingly "Don't worry, okay?" he chuckled slightly "I'll be gentle."

England fidgeted and remembered something that may help "Th-the top drawer," he covered his eyes in frustration and pointed to the nightstand close by. From the drawer, America pulled a small bottle of lubrication. He was surprised to see the stiff and proper Englishman had owned such a thing. "Arthur? Um, is there something I should know?", the other instantly shook his head still blushing "No! Of course not! What? Is it a crime to be prepared?", his lover grinned madly whispering "No, not at all." and squeezing a bit onto his fingers. America lent down to the other's chest and began nipping and sucking on his pert nipples, effectively distracting the brit from his two intruding fingers. He cringed at how tight he was and added another finger just in case.

After a couple of minutes of preparation, scissoring in and out of the softly moaning brit, America squeezed a bit of lube on his painfully erect member. There wasn't time for the emerald eyed blonde to make a sound as his partner entered so abruptly. England let a squeak escape his lips before his mouth was also taken in the heat of passion. "M-move!" he half yelled, the blues eyed boy complied and began his thrusts slow and steady as to not hurt the one below him. Oh how he had longed for this! Ever since he hit puberty and this very man had explained _"The birds and the Bees" _to him the best he could. After that, the younger had thought of anyone he may want to be with like this, but the only person he ever desired to touch this intimately was the very person beneath him now.

The American's thrusts sped up rapidly as the older ground his hips to meet the other's. England was close, he knew it. America took hold of the other's neglected cock and began pumping in rhythm to his thrusts, "Oh-oh god! A-A-ALFRED! I'm g-gonna c-" England stammered out just before he burst, spilling his fluids across his own stomach. Not long after, America felt his partner's arse tighten around his own cock and, with a few more harsh thrusts, spilled himself inside his exhausted lover.

Once both caught their breath, America rolled off England to settle beside him on the large bed and pull up the covers on them both. No words had been exchanged yet, nether felt the need to speak, but as they both settled in close to one another, England sighed. Sure their roles were reversed a little now, the important thing was that he finally had the one he loved holding him close. That's all that mattered. He peeked at his lover's beautiful half-lidded blue eyes. You know, he thought, they really weren't like crystal at all. They were more like water, better yet a sea. Yes, a sea unlike any the former pirate had sailed or read of in his books, this one took him along through currents that always led back home.

"I love you, Arthur. You know that, right?"

"Yes Alfred, I love you too."

The drifted off to sleep at the same moment, nether wondering or even really caring what tomorrow would bring.

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Boom there it is... THE END!

Okay, so probably not the best USUK in the world but I really wanted to make a one shot that meant something!

**Reviews Welcome, Flames Are Not**


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